


The Boyfriend Experience

by Caedmon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), fucking while pining, in this house we love and respect sex workers, they've traded their lone brain cell for pine trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29581728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Since his divorce from Gabriel, Aziraphale Fell has lived a lonely life. He has his shop, his books, and his flat, but few personal connections. As the anniversary of his separation approaches, he’s being a horrible bitch to everyone. His assistant, Anathema, suggests he hire an escort - an idea he firmly rejects.So he’s surprised when an escort shows up at his door a few days later, hired by Anathema. And he’s evenmoresurprised when he realizes the escort is his college crush, the man he’s never forgotten, Anthony J. Crowley...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 655
Kudos: 349
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yvesriba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yvesriba/gifts).



> Hi! Welcome to my new story! 
> 
> This story is a birthday gift for Yvesriba, who has been a tremendous friend to me over the last year. It was intended to be a one shot, but it’s going a *bit* longer than that. As of right now, I think it’s going to be about 10 chapters. I intend to update weekly, on Saturdays, but I may go to twice a week if I finish it in a timely manner. 
> 
> As a note: Crowley’s hair in this is still ginger, but in the length and style of David Tennant’s hair in season 2 of Staged. 
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVESRIBA!! I hope you enjoy your gift!!
> 
> Edit: This beautiful artwork was done by my wifey, Rose_Nebula! Leave her some love!  
> 

_6 February, 2021_

Aziraphale was working on the binding of a book in the back room of his shop when he heard Anathema come in. He didn’t look up at her, though, he just assumed she was there to drop off or pick up something. So he was surprised when she slapped a business card down on his desk in his line of sight. Curious, he picked up the card. 

“Inferno Escorts,” he read, his brows knit in confusion. “What on earth is this?”

“You need to get laid,” she said simply.

Aziraphale ruffled immediately. “I hardly think that’s any of your business.”

“You’ve _made_ it my business,” she rejoined, arms crossed over her chest. 

“And how on earth have I done _that_?”

“By being a complete asshole for the last few weeks.”

“I have not!”

“You _have_. You’re short tempered and rude to customers.”

“I don’t _like_ the customers.”

“You’re short tempered and rude to _me_. Are you saying you don’t like me?”

“Of course not, you know I love you dearly. But --”

“But you’ve been treating me like shit.” She softened a little. “Aziraphale, I know this is the worst time of year for you. I know that. But you’ve been an absolute nightmare lately. Usually, I just deal with it. Valentine’s Day is hard for you and I get it. That’s when Gabriel left. But I don’t think it’s ever been as bad as it has been this year.”

“I haven’t been _that_ bad.”

Anathema gave him a look. “When I came in a week ago, all excited to show you my engagement ring and give you the biggest news of my entire life, do you know what you said to me? I showed you my ring, blissfully happy, and said ‘We’re getting married!’ You looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘That’s the biggest mistake you ever made.’ And then you were an ass to me for the rest of the day.” Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what, but Anathema went on. “I cried, Aziraphale. I didn’t want you to know about it, but I cried in the bathroom.”

Aziraphale was chastened, and hung his head a little. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly churlish of me. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t. But you’ve hardly been better this past week. So I say to you again - you need to get laid. And since you absolutely refuse to even _consider_ dating, an escort seems like the way to go.”

“I hardly think an escort would solve all my problems.”

“I don’t think they would solve _all_ your problems, but they’d help. You’re touch starved, Aziraphale. And you need human contact. Things I can’t provide for you.”

“I’m not touch starved!”

She gave him another look. “How long has it been since you were touched? And not by me. I mean truly _touched_. Gabriel left three years ago next week. I’d be willing to bet there wasn’t much cuddling going on before that.”

No, there hadn’t been, not for well over a year before the split. Which meant it had been well over _four_ years since Aziraphale had been held, had been touched intimately. Goodness. It was a sobering thought.

“Then why not hire one of those professional cuddlers? Why an escort for sexual services?”

“Because I stand by what I said. You need to get laid.”

“I really don’t think that—”

“I do. In fact, I _know_. You’ll feel so much better if you do this.”

“But hiring an escort…”

“There’s no shame in it. None at all. Sex work is just like any other work. You wouldn’t be ashamed of hiring a mechanic, would you? Or a nurse? An accountant?”

“Of course not.”

“Then there’s no shame in this.”

Aziraphale wasn’t so sure. He felt his cheeks color with the very thought.

Anathema covered his hand and gave him a warm smile. “Aziraphale, I wouldn’t tell you any of this if I didn’t love you.”

“I know, dear, and I love you, too.”

She pointed to the card with one manicured nail. “This is a high end, reputable agency. My friend Morgan works for them. They’re as professional as they come, and very discreet. Please, Aziraphale. Consider it.”

“I will. I’ll consider it,” he said. In truth, he wasn’t willing to spend money for sex. It wasn’t that he didn’t _have_ money - his parents had been extremely well off, and left him everything when they died - it was the principle of the thing. But she was so earnest. “And I owe you a heartfelt apology. This time of the year is quite difficult, but I certainly shouldn’t take it out on you. You’ve been too good to me for the last six years for me to mistreat you in any way.”

“Apology accepted. But only if you promise you’ll _seriously_ consider it.”

“I will,” he lied. “I’ll give it a great deal of thought.”

“Good,” she said, then leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. “Now, I’ve got to go to lunch with Newt. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Take your time, dear. There isn’t much to do today.”

“Okay, I won’t rush back. Thanks, Aziraphale.”

“You’re welcome, Anathema. And thank you.”

“My pleasure. Bye!” she said, and flounced off in a swirl of skirt. Aziraphale waited until he heard the bells on the front door jingle, signaling she was gone, then picked up the business card. 

“Inferno Escorts,” he said, then scoffed to himself and threw the card in the garbage.

~*~O~*~

_14 February, 2021_

Aziraphale made his way into the lounge with a cup of tea in his hand, wondering which book to read tonight. It was Valentine’s Day, and he was in the mood for a bit of escapism. Something to take his mind off the holiday, and the connotations and memories that went with it. 

It had been an emotionally grueling day so far. He’d opened the shop, even though he rarely opened on Sundays, just for something to do, to keep his mind occupied. It had only partially worked, but he’d had a couple of sales - anthologies of love poems. He usually resented any sales he made, but on this day, those particular books were welcome to leave. 

He’d closed the shop an hour ago and retired to his upstairs flat. There was no way he’d be willing to go out - not tonight. So he’d prepared himself a small meal and enjoyed it in his kitchen, then made a pot of tea. As he perused one of his bookshelves, he still wasn’t sure which book to read, exactly, but he knew for certain it wouldn’t be a romance. Perhaps a murder mystery. That would match his mood. 

Aziraphale reclined in his favorite chair with his tea and a book, an Agatha Christie, and opened it to the first page, determined not to think about his ex-husband - unless it was a brief fantasy of him dying a miserable death like the victim in the novel. _No_ , he chastised himself, he didn’t really want that. It wasn’t that he cared about Gabriel. Not at all. He just wouldn’t want to live with the guilt if something happened. 

He was about fifty pages into the book when his mobile went off in the kitchen, playing the tone Anathema had set for her texts. He considered ignoring it, but, well, he was out of tea. Might as well take a break. 

He made his way to the kitchen, where his phone was on the charger, and picked it up, swiping to see the message. 

Anathema: _there’s a man who is on his way to your flat. he’ll be there any minute now. a valentine gift from me and Newt._

Aziraphale stared down at the phone for a minute, trying to make sense of the message, then it clicked and his face blanched. Very quickly, he typed a reply.

Aziraphale: _I certainly hope you’re joking._  
Anathema: _I’m not joking. fuck his brains out, then tell me all about it tomorrow. xoxo <3 _

He was dumbfounded, angry, and struggling to come up with a reply when he heard a knock at the door. He looked up, turning towards the sound wide eyed, and debated like lightning what he should do. Maybe he should ignore them? Surely if he didn’t answer, they would go away. Right? But that would be rude, he decided. And no matter what, he didn’t want to be rude. 

Well, he’d just answer the door and tell whoever it was that there had been a mistake. Yes, that seemed like the best course of action. So he squared his shoulders, laid the mobile down, and went to the door, head held high. He paused for a moment with his hand on the door, then opened it, prepared to speak. 

When he saw who was actually standing there, all his words left at once and he felt like he’d had an electric shock. 

The man on the other side of the door was tall and lean, with fashionable, fitted black clothes, his hip cocked attractively. He had longish, straight hair that looked stylishly floppy, and a devastating smile that Aziraphale recognized at once. There were sunglasses over his eyes, but Aziraphale didn’t need to see his eyes to know who he was. It was Anthony Crowley, a man he’d known casually at university twenty years or so ago - and whom he had nursed a massive crush on for the entire duration of his university education (and for several years after).

“Anthony?” he said, shocked. 

Anthony’s face fell into a look of disbelief. “Aziraphale? Is that you? It _is_ you! You’re my client tonight?”

Aziraphale felt completely off balance. “I, um, there’s been a mistake.”

“Shit, do I have the wrong address?”

“No, no. You came to the right place. But there’s still been a mistake.”

“There has been?”

“Yes. But, um, would you like to come in for a moment?”

Anthony gave him a smile that made his heart race. Goodness. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t eighteen or twenty anymore.

“I’d love to,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale stepped aside to let him in, and caught a whiff of his scent as he passed. Good Lord, he smelled intoxicating. Better than he remembered. Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment and did his best to gather his thoughts. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Anthony said. 

“Er, thank you, Anthony,” Aziraphale said, shutting the door. 

“Oh, nobody calls me Anthony anymore. I’m Crowley to my friends.”

“Crowley. I’ll endeavor to remember that,” Aziraphale said with a nervous smile. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, gesturing to the couch. 

An - _Crowley_ gave him another devastating smile, and Aziraphale felt all wibbly, but went to sit on the couch beside Crowley, leaving a good amount of distance between them. Oh, goodness. He hadn’t seen Crowley in twenty years, since he’d left Oxford, but the attraction he’d thought he left behind was back in full force. He’d thought he was over his college crush, yet here Crowley was, setting his heart to racing. And he was supposed to have sex with him? Aziraphale couldn’t believe it. 

The red-haired man sprawled on the couch elegantly, in an effortlessly sexy way, and smirked at Aziraphale. “So! Aziraphale, how the hell are you? It’s been, God, twenty years?”

“Yes, thereabouts.”

“What are you up to these days?”

“I own a shop. A bookshop.”

Crowley laughed. “I might have known. You were always the most studious among us. The shop downstairs?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Rare and antiquarian books.”

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, I do. I love it. I studied literature and library science, and when I graduated, I went to work for one of the large libraries in town. But my real love was book conservation, so I struck out on my own to open the shop about ten years ago. I’ve been very happy with the decision.”

“Do you stay busy?”

“Fairly busy, yes. Most of my customers are by appointment. I don’t get a lot of foot traffic, which is just as well. I loathe selling my books to random strangers.”

Crowley chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to see you doing so well.”

“I’m doing quite well, professionally, thank you,” he said, feeling a pang about his romantic and personal life. Then he brushed it aside. “How about you? You were studying astrophysics, is that right?”

“I was, yes. I graduated with honors, then pursued my masters. I’ve been working at the university for the last two decades as a researcher and lecturer. I have one or two modules a semester. It keeps me on my toes.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I do, very much. I enjoy studying the stars and always have. I’m lucky to have a job where I can keep my head in the skies as much as I do,” he said with a grin. 

“Teaching must be difficult.”

“Nah, it’s not that bad. I teach intro to astronomy, mostly, and get lots of starry-eyed kids in my module. It’s fun. I really like when I introduce them to the stars and they decide to study further. That’s a real thrill.”

“I imagine so,” he said awkwardly. Then he flushed. “So this... you’re not…”

“I’m not what?”

Aziraphale swallowed, then plowed ahead. “You’re not an escort full time?”

“Nah. This is just a part time gig. Once or sometimes twice a week.”

“Do you enjoy it? Being an escort?”

Crowley shrugged. “I enjoy the money. It affords me the opportunity to go places and do things I probably couldn’t on a university salary.”

“How… intriguing. Tell me, do you ever see anyone from our university days?”

He smiled knowingly at the change of subject. “Not very often. How about you? Do you ever see any of our old friends?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I don’t get out very much, you see.”

“Work keeps you busy?”

“Not - not exactly. I just became something of a homebody while I was with my ex. More than I already was, that is.”

“Yeah, I don’t recall you being much of a party animal at uni. But then I didn’t know you terribly well, certainly not as well as I’d have liked.” Aziraphale felt a full-body thrill. “We just ran in the same circles.”

“Yes, that’s a good way to put it. And I would have liked to have known you better, too.” _Understatement._ Aziraphale had harbored a _massive_ , soul-rending crush on Anthony J. Crowley, but had never had the courage to pursue anything. He’d thought An - Crowley was straight. 

“I always wanted to get to know you better,” Crowley said. “You seemed like the nicest person, and you looked like an angel. In fact, that’s what I always called you in my mind. Angel.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks heated. “I’m - I’m deeply flattered.” 

Crowley gave him a seductive grin, then glanced at his watch. “Say, angel,” he said, and Aziraphale’s heart trilled in his chest. “I hate to be like this, but I’m on the clock, as it were. You booked me for two hours, and it’s been about twenty minutes.”

“Ah, yes. That was the mistake I wanted to talk to you about. I didn’t book you.”

Crowley’s eyebrows appeared from behind his glasses. “You didn’t?”

“Um, no. You were… you were a gift from my employee and her fiancé. She feels, well, she feels I need to have some sexual contact, but I don’t know that I agree.”

“Well, that explains why the name I got was Newton Pulsifer and not Aziraphale Fell. I just thought you were using a fake name to maintain anonymity. But that’s beside the point. You don’t want to have sex?”

Oh, Aziraphale wanted to. He wanted to so badly, and had since he was eighteen. But he felt shy and awkward. 

“I’m afraid not. Not this time,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Will you, um, will you be paid even if we don’t have sex?”

Crowley grinned at him. “I will, yes. In fact, I’ve already been paid. My fee is prepaid when you book online. It’s all very modern.”

“Well, that’s good. I’d hate to think you missed out on money because of me.”

Crowely gave him a look. “Are you _sure_ you wouldn’t like to have sex? I’d be more than happy to.”

Aziraphale’s cock was twitching in his pants at the very thought, but he mastered himself. “I - I don’t think so. Not tonight.” Then he had a flash of boldness. “But I would very much like to see you again sometime.”

He grinned and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my card. You can either call or go online. Just request Damien - that’s the name I use when I’m working.”

“Should I call you Damien?”

“I’d prefer if you called me Crowley.”

“Then Crowley it will be,” he said, taking the card. 

“Are you _absoutely sure_ you don’t want to have sex tonight?”

No, he wasn’t sure at _all_ , but Aziraphale swallowed hard again. “I’m sure. Maybe next time.”

“Alright, suit yourself,” Crowley said cheerfully, then got to his feet. Aziraphale followed suit. 

“Out of curiosity, what’s your rate?”

“Sessions start at a thousand pounds for two hours. Then it’s five hundred an hour after that.”

“Goodness. You must really be high end.”

Crowley gave him a roguish grin. “I’m among the best in town, and in high demand.”

“I would imagine so.”

“I really do hope you’ll book me,” Crowley said, and he sounded sincere. “I’d really like to see you again.” 

“I’d like that, too. And I hope you don’t feel as if I’ve wasted your time.”

“Not at all. Catching up with an old friend is never a waste of time. See you around?”

Aziraphale nodded and gave him a little smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Hope so.” He opened the door and gave Aziraphale one more devastating smile. “Ciao, angel.”

“Ciao,” Aziraphale said through numb lips. Crowley closed the door behind himself, and Aziraphale sank back down into the couch with a card in his hand, his mind spinning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for the long note. I feel it’s warranted.
> 
> *looks over comments on chapter 1*
> 
> Well. That was a thing. 
> 
> I knew, when I started writing this story, that it wouldn’t be everyone’s thing. I had had this idea knocking around for several months and Yves had expressed that they’d like me to write it, so I put it at the forefront of my mind and decided to write it as a gift. I put literal hours of thought into how to be sensitive and tactful to everyone - but sex workers in particular - and had a friend of a friend who is a sex worker give it a sensitivity read to make sure I wasn’t out of bounds. I knew I wouldn’t be a hundred percent accurate - it’s a fictional story about fictional characters - and that I would have regular readers who wouldn’t like it. I was alright with that. Different strokes for different folks and all that. But this is what Yves wanted, so I wrote it, and did it gladly. I did my level best to tag it appropriately and to include the entire premise in the summary. 
> 
> I was not expecting there to be the backlash it got. It shook me and hurt me deeply, and left me a mess last Saturday. Still, I was convinced I was overreacting - until it just kept going on and on, into the next day. Then I knew I wasn’t just in my head about it. 
> 
> I don’t want to come off as one of those people who only welcomes buttpats and good comments. If I’m screwing something up, I want to be informed so I can do better. But I implore you to inform me kindly. Maybe reach out on twitter or tumblr and let me know (I’m caedmonfaith on both), and I’ll do my best to make it better. The last thing I want is to be offensive or hurt people. I’m in this to make people feel good, not bad. All I ask is that you bear that in mind and don’t try to make _me_ feel bad. 
> 
> I’ve done my best over the last two weeks, while writing this, to treat the topic with the sensitivity and care it deserves, to be responsible while telling a good story. I know I’ve not gotten everything a hundred percent accurate (like them being willing to have oral sex without condom), but I’ve done my best. I just want to tell a good story, to entertain people and make them feel good. That’s my goal. 
> 
> To everyone who sprung to my defense - thank you. Your spirited defense of me meant more than I can ever tell you. I saw and appreciated every single comment, although I didn’t have the mental wherewithal (or the words) to reply to all of the supportive comments there were. I don’t know what to say except thank you and I love you. I’m deeply moved and deeply grateful. I hope you’ll continue to read this story - and I especially hope you’ll enjoy it.
> 
> As another note, you may have noticed that I changed the title. I felt that The Boyfriend Experience was more apt. 
> 
> Anyway, here’s wonderwall. Thanks for reading, and I love you all dearly.

_15 February, 2021_

It was after one when Aziraphale opened the door to the shop and made his way inside, whistling a little tune. Anathema was sitting at the counter, book in hand, and looked up when the bells jingled. When she saw him, she broke into a radiant smile. 

“There you are. I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”

“I never come in before lunch on Mondays,” Aziraphale said, taking off his coat and scarf and hanging them on the coat tree. “You know that.”

“Yes, but I was still anxious for you to get here.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond to that, although he knew _exactly_ why she was so excited to see him. He’d talk to her about that in a minute. First, he asked, “Have we had any customers today?”

“No, just a couple of browsers.”

“Well, that’s good.” Aziraphale hated customers.

She followed him to the back room and propped herself in the doorway while he went to sit down at his desk. When he turned around, she had her arms crossed, a smirk on her face. He rolled his eyes and ignored her for the moment, waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. 

Finally, he snapped at her lightly. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m just waiting for you to tell me all about it.”

He sniffed. “You’re lucky I’m not tearing into you. I can’t _believe_ you did that.”

Anathema shrugged, unconcerned. “I’d do it again. No regrets.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you. So go on. Tell me all about it. Did you fuck his brains out?”

He gave her a look for being so crass, then sniffed again. “That’s none of your business.”

“Come on,” she groaned. “Tell me. I’m dying to know all the gory details.” 

“There are no gory details - not that I’d tell you if there _were_.”

Anathema looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that we didn’t do anything.”

“But of course you did!”

“I hate to disappoint you, but we didn’t,” Aziraphale said evenly. 

She made a couple of outraged, squawking noises that were slightly amusing, then demanded, “Well, why the hell not!?”

“Because I knew him.”

She was aghast. “No.”

“Yes. He was a friend from university. An acquaintance, really.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not kidding. So we sat and talked for a little while, catching up on the last twenty years, then said goodnight.”

“But - you were smiling when you came in just now! And whistling! I thought surely…”

“You thought wrong. We just chatted.”

She looked discombobulated for a moment, then her face cleared and she almost smirked. “Well, if just conversing with this man is enough to improve your mood so much, I can’t imagine what it would be like to sleep with him. I’ll have to book him for Newt’s friend, Danielle. She’s been in the dumps lately, too.”

Aziraphale felt a sharp stab of unreasonable jealousy. “Don’t you dare,” he said in a low voice. 

Anathema gave a victorious “Ha!” of laughter, and pointed at him. “You _like_ him.”

He sniffed, pretending indifference. “I told you, he was an old friend from uni.”

“Yeah, but you _like_ him.”

Aziraphale blushed. “He’s a very attractive man,” was all he’d say.

“You like him. I can tell. Don’t deny it.” He didn’t, and Anathema looked immensely pleased with herself. “Did you book another appointment?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I'm not sure I’m going to.”

“Why on earth wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t you think that would be awkward?”

She shrugged. “Maybe at first, but he’s a professional. And honestly, I would have thought it would ease your mind that he’s an old friend.”

“I suppose it does in some way. But I still feel it would be awkward.”

“Did you want to sleep with him twenty years ago? Tell the truth. I can always tell when you’re lying.”

That was true, she could. His cheeks colored a bit. “Yes, I did.”

“Did you want to sleep with him last night?”

He felt his flush grow. “I did, yes.”

“Then call him.”

“I might,” Aziraphale said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“Decidedly _not_. You shouldn't have done it in the first place, you meddlesome thing.”

“Yeah, perhaps not, but I’ve already said no regrets. I stand by that.”

Aziraphale muttered under his breath. 

“Go on, Aziraphale. Think about it. If you just talking with him is good enough to improve your mood, what would the sex be like? And you don’t even have to have sex. You could just talk. Or maybe he could cuddle you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Aziraphale repeated. 

“Well, I hope you do,” Anathema said. “Anyway, I’m going to lunch. Will you be alright by yourself?”

“I always am.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Have a good lunch, Anathema,” Aziraphale said, giving her a smile then turning back to his desk. 

Once again, he waited until he heard the bells on the door before he relaxed. The first order of business: he fired up his computer and went to the internet. He pulled up PayPal and sent Anathema Device a thousand pounds, with a note that he forgave her for overstepping a boundary but she must never do it again. Then he typed the address of Inferno Escorts into the address bar and sat there for a minute with his finger poised over the return key before he pressed it. 

The website was sleek and modern, not tawdry at all, and that was an odd comfort. He clicked that he was a man seeking a male escort, and was redirected to a page with about seven or eight headshots and short bios of available escorts. His eyes were drawn immediately to Crowley, and he hovered over the button that said ‘Click here to book Damien’.

Could he do this? Should he? He very much wanted to sleep with Crowley. He’d _always_ wanted to do so, to kiss and touch him, and had spent his entire university life - and several years after - pining for his gorgeous fellow student. But could he do this without his feelings getting involved? He’d only been around Crowley last night for a little less than an hour and his silly crush had returned full-force. Would spending more time with Crowley complicate things further? Aziraphale didn’t know, and wasn’t sure he cared. He’d felt happier talking to Crowley last night, lighter, than he had in a long time, and he wanted more of that. But it was vital for him to remember that he was just a client. This was a simple business transaction, if he went through with it. There would be no feelings on Crowley’s end - no matter how _he_ felt about _Crowley_. He _had_ to remember that. No matter what, he must keep that in mind at all times. And he was sure he could. Aziraphale was not the type of man who was ruled by his emotions. It was fine. It would be fine. He could have sex with Crowley and it would be meaningless. A scratching of an itch - and spending time with an old friend. No big deal. And maybe - just maybe - if he had sex with Crowley once, that would be all he wanted. He’d be satisfied, not needing more. It was worth a shot. 

Aziraphale clicked the link.

~*~O~*~

Crowley was in his office late on Monday afternoon when his mobile went off. He looked down to see a message from Madam Tracy, his boss at the escort service, and swiped it.

Mme Tracy: _You got a booking for Friday night. 3 hours. Want it?_  
Damien: _Anyone I know?_  
Mme Tracy: _Aziraphale Fell?_

Crowley felt a thrill shoot all over him. He’d only seen Aziraphale last night, and now he was booking him again? For a three hour appointment?

Damien: _He’s the bloke from last night. I’ll take it._  
Mme Tracy: _must have been good if he’s booking you again less than 24 hours later. Well done!_  
Damien: _thanks. Anything else?_  
Mme Tracy: _Not right now. I’ll keep you apprised._  
Damien: _Sounds good. Have a good day._

He put the phone down and smiled. He’d been shocked out of his tits to see Aziraphale standing on the other side of that door last night, but as soon as the shock wore off, he’d been thrilled. Crowley had always harbored a secret crush on the angel, all those years ago at Oxford, and always regretted that he’d not made a move when he had the chance. But he’d been young and still closeted as a bisexual man, pretending not to be interested in men. He’d told Aziraphale the truth last night: he’d always wanted to know him better, but was afraid that he wouldn’t have been able to keep his feelings to himself if he’d gotten close to the angel. So he’d just pined from afar, watching Aziraphale go about his daily life, and wasted countless hours imagining those pink lips on his cock or those soft hands caressing him. But almost more than anything sexual, he’d just wanted to be _closer_ , to spend time in Aziraphale’s orbit. 

Well, now it seemed the universe was giving him a second chance. He was going to get to spend time with him, and with any luck, he’d get to sleep with him. But he couldn’t let himself go, and he needed to tread lightly. It was vital that he treat Aziraphale like a client, not a crush. No matter what he felt, he had to keep himself in check. The cardinal rule of escorting was ‘don’t fall in love’, and Crowley knew that well. He’d gone into this business in part because he didn’t want any emotional attachments. He’d been hurt badly enough in the past and didn’t want that again. But he didn't think it would be a problem. He wasn’t a fresh faced kid anymore, straight out of his teens. He was a full grown man who had been having sex for money for the last ten years. He’d never caught feelings so far, not even with his regulars. Aziraphale was just another client. No problem. 

He lay his phone down and smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.

~*~O~*~

_19 February_

Crowley pulled his Bentley into a parking spot in front of a chemist a street over from Aziraphale’s flat. He got out of the car, checking his pockets for the lube and condoms, then locked the door and started towards Aziraphale’s flat with a spring in his step. He was excited about this appointment - more excited than he’d ever been for any appointment he’d ever had with a client. In fact, Crowley hadn’t been this excited about _anything_ in a long time. It was a novel feeling and he liked it. He was hoping for sex tonight, with Aziraphale, but would only be slightly disappointed if they didn’t fuck. Just spending time with Aziraphale would be wonderful. A dream come true, really. But he chastised himself again: he mustn’t let his feelings get involved. That would lead to nowhere but disaster. Really, he told himself, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d never gotten the impression that Aziraphale had been interested in him at university - and he’d been paying acute attention. That would help, he hoped - the knowledge that Aziraphale wasn’t really interested in him. It stung a bit, but it was good for him to keep it in mind. It helped keep him in his place, mentally.

He stopped for a moment outside the shop, AZ Fell & Co., and peered in the window. It looked cluttered but neat, stacked to the ceiling with old books. Honestly, it looked like the kind of shop one could get lost in, and Crowley thought it might be fun to poke around in there and see if he had any old astronomy or botany books. Perhaps he’d come back sometime and have a look around, after he got to know Aziraphale a bit better. And he’d very much like to get to know Aziraphale better, he thought - before he mentally slammed the brakes. That was the exact type of shit he couldn’t be doing. He needed to get a better hold on himself. 

Resolved, he opened the door beside the bookshop that was labeled “Fell” and bounded up the stairs to Aziraphale’s door. He paused outside the door for just a moment, checking his watch. It was exactly eight, and he smiled to himself, then struck a sexy pose, cocking his hip, and knocked. 

“Coming!” he heard from the other side of the door, and he smiled in spite of himself. The door flew open and his smile grew when he saw Aziraphale standing there, looking good enough to eat. He was fully dressed in a waistcoat, bow tie, and jacket, and looked like he might have been going out on the town - fifty or sixty years ago. But somehow, it just _worked_ on Aziraphale. It was mind-blowingly sexy. 

_Please let him want to have sex tonight._

“Hiya, angel.”

“Oh, hello, Crowley,” he said, looking a little shy. 

“Can I come in?”

“Of course, of course. Come right in.” 

Crowley gave him his best smile, then sauntered into the flat. It was a bit neater than the last time he’d been here, but still extremely _Aziraphale_. Crowley liked it. It felt cozy.

“Here, let me take your coat and scarf,” Aziraphale said, holding out his hands. Crowley unbuttoned his wool pea coat and removed his scarf and handed them over. Aziraphale hung them on his coat tree, next to his own things, and Crowley liked seeing them there. 

“Won’t you sit down, dear?”

“Sure,” Crowley said, and went to the couch, sitting in the same place he had Sunday night. Aziraphale sat a short distance away, prim as a schoolmarm, his hands folded in his lap. 

“Would you, um, would you like some tea and biscuits? Or wine?”

“I don’t drink alcohol when I’m on the job. It's an occupational hazard, you understand.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.”

“I don’t usually eat or drink _anything_ when I’m with a client, unless we’re at a restaurant, but I think I can trust you enough to have some tea and biscuits later, if you’re willing and the offer is still on the table.”

“Oh. Yes. It will be,” Aziraphale said with a little smile that charmed Crowley. “How… how are you?”

So he wanted to talk, at least for a while. Crowley fought down the small pang of disappointment. He could do that.

“I’m well. I hope you are?”

“I am, yes. Quite well. How was your week?”

“Oh, it was just a typical week. Nothing exciting about it. Although getting a text that you’d booked me for tonight on Monday was a highlight.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks pinkened a little. “It was?”

“Yes, it was. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’d like to see you again. I was very excited to get that text.”

“I - I guess you’re wondering _why_ I booked you again.”

Crowley gave a crooked smile. “I admit to being curious.”

Aziraphale looked shy for a moment, staring down at his hands in his lap, then nodding once and squaring his shoulders, looking at Crowley. Crowley admired the steel he could see in him.

“I think I’d like to become one of your regular clients.” 

His eyes widened behind the glasses, but his smile grew. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t expected that, and was delighted to hear it. “You would?”

“Yes. I - I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I would. Depending upon how tonight goes, of course. And assuming you’re willing or you have time.”

 _I’ll make time for you, angel_ , Crowley thought. 

Outwardly, he shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of time. I usually only have one or two appointments per week. How often are we talking?”

“I was thinking every other week, to start out with.”

“That sounds perfect to me. But we need to talk about a few things first.”

“Yes, I’d imagine so.”

“First - what are you expecting? What is it you want?”

Aziraphale averted his eyes for a moment, going back to looking at his hands. “I’m sure you’ll think I’m ridiculous.”

“I promise I won't, angel.”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve been terribly lonely since my separation and divorce. It’s been hard. I was lonely well _before_ we separated, but I digress. I’m interested in, in sex with you, if you’re willing, but I’m also interested in some of the… extras.”

Crowley thought he knew exactly what he meant, but he wanted to be sure. “Like what?”

“Like touching. Kissing. Cuddling. Being held. And I’d also very much like to talk to you, to get to know you. The way I always wanted to all those years ago.”

“So you want the boyfriend experience.”

“I - yes. I suppose I do.”

“I can do that,” Crowley said at once, before he could stop himself. He’d played therapist for tons of clients, that was nothing unusual, but had shied away from doing any of the other things Aziraphale was asking for. It was dangerous to do the emotional stuff - and it was _doubly_ dangerous to be doing them with Aziraphale, considering how attracted he was. But he wanted to give Aziraphale anything and everything he wanted. He couldn't explain why, only that he did. He wanted to _please_ this angel. And if Aziraphale wanted the facsimile of a relationship, Crowley would provide that. Gladly.

Aziraphale’s smile was radiant and set Crowley’s pulse to race. “Really?”

Crowley smiled back, feeling like he was teetering on the brink of something. Something much bigger than him. It was scary but exhilarating. “Really. It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, dear. I was worried you would laugh me out of my own house.”

“Nah,” Crowley chuckled. “You’re not the first client to want that,” he said. _But you’re the first one I’m willing to give it to._

“May - may I make a small request? Well, it might be a large request. I don’t know.”

“You can ask me for anything, Aziraphale, and if it’s possible, I’ll give it. I only want to make you happy.”

Aziraphale was back to looking at his hands. “I realize that I’m a client and this is a business arrangement, but, well, I was hoping that maybe you’d be as genuine with me as you’re comfortable with.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear if it’s not the truth. My assistant, Anathema, calls it ‘blowing sunshine up my skirt’, which is as apt a metaphor as any, I suppose.”

Crowley laughed. “It’s certainly illustrative.”

Aziraphale gave a little smile. “It is, indeed. But, for example, the way you were genuine with me when you told me about your day job and so forth. I’d like it if that continued when we’re together. I’d like to get to know _you_ , not Damien. And I don’t want you to do things sexually that you aren't comfortable with.”

He grinned. “I’ve been doing this for ten years, angel. I’m pretty much comfortable with anything.”

“I - I know that. Perhaps I should have said ‘things you don’t enjoy’. It would make things so much better, for me, if I believe you’re enjoying yourself as well.”

It sprung to his lips to tell Aziraphale that he would enjoy the hell out of anything and everything they did, but he refrained. That would be a bit _too_ honest. And really, he shouldn’t think like that. The fact that he kept having these little thoughts scared him a little. 

But he gave a smile. “So you’re asking me not to fake it with you.”

“Yes. That’s it, exactly.”

“I can do that. It’s an unusual request, but I’m willing.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. That eases my mind a great deal.”

“Good. I’m happy to do that. Now, you said that you _do_ want to have sex?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. Very much so.”

Crowey felt like punching the air, but managed to keep his reaction to a small smile. “I’m looking forward to that.” _Understatement_. “But there are a few ground rules, and we need to discuss preferences.”

“Preferences?”

“What you like and don’t like.”

“What about what _you_ like and don’t like?”

 _With you, I’ll like everything_.

Crowley just grinned. “I told you, there’s not much I’m not comfortable with.”

“I don’t doubt that you’re comfortable, dear, but I’d like to do what you _like_. What you enjoy.”

Aziraphale had mentioned this already, but it really struck Crowley this time. How long had it been since someone he’d had sex with had cared what _he_ liked? Entirely too long. He felt himself teeter a bit more on that edge. 

“We can talk about that in a minute. First, the ground rules.”

“Yes, of course.”

“There are really only three.”

“Well, what are they?”

“First, when my time is up, I have to go. I can’t linger around.”

“Oh, yes. That’s certainly understandable.”

“Second, we have to wear a condom for any penetration. No exceptions.”

“That’s also perfectly acceptable. What’s the third?”

Crowley debated with himself for a moment before he said the last rule. “No kissing on the mouth.”

Aziraphale looked a little disappointed, and said, “Oh.”

“I’ll kiss you anywhere and everywhere else you want. There’s no part of your body I won’t kiss - except your lips. And the same in reverse. You can put your mouth anywhere on me you want, except my lips.”

“I understand,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley wanted to take it back. He’d wanted to kiss this man for twenty years, and now he was instituting a rule that he _couldn't._ He kind of hated himself in that moment. But he didn’t say anything about it. 

“Good. Now, let’s talk about preferences. I’m assuming you like anal sex?”

“I do, yes,” Aziraphale said with a little pink in his cheeks.

“Do you prefer to top or bottom?”

“I like both equally, although my ex husband, Gabriel, never let me top. What about you?”

Crowley was surprised by that admission, but didn’t say anything. “I also like both. Do you like blowjobs?”

“Yes, very much so, although it’s been a long time since I’ve had one. Gabriel wasn’t a fan of giving them.”

“What about rimjobs?”

“I like them, too. But once again—”

“Gabriel wouldn’t give you one?”

“No. He didn’t like them, although he liked receiving.”

“What a prick,” Crowley said with distaste.

“Yes, he was, quite. Do you like blowjobs and rimjobs?”

Crowley gave him a grin. “Do you think I would have gotten into this business if I didn’t like sucking cock?”

Aziraphale flushed. “No, I suppose not.”

“What else do you like in bed? Do you like it slow and sweet or a little rough?”

“I like both, although I don’t like it _too_ rough. I don’t wish to be hurt, or to inflict pain.”

“That answers part of my next question. I was going to ask about BDSM.”

“Well, as I said, I’m not a fan of pain, and I don’t know that I would be into bondage - although I’m willing to try sometime. Maybe handcuffs or neckties or something. And I don’t mind being dominated just a little. Being told what to do. I like it very much, actually. But I think… I think I’d like to try _being_ the dominant one sometime. Maybe… at some point in the future.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sure?”

“Gabriel never let me do that. I wanted to, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

He was starting to really hate this Gabriel tosser. “Well, we can try it sometime in the future, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Is there anything else that you like or don’t like?”

“I, um, I very much like dirty talk. The filthier the better. That’s something else I wasn’t permitted when I was married. I’m afraid I’m probably quite rusty.”

“Your ex sounds like a goddamn nightmare.”

“He was, yes.”

“Do you prefer to do the talking or for me to do it?”

“I think I’d like both.”

“Perfect.”

“If I might make one more small request?”

“Of course, angel.”

“I’d like for us to seduce each other a bit, not just jump right into it.”

Crowley grinned. “That’s all part of the boyfriend experience.”

“And we’ll hold each other after?”

“Until my time runs out, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, excellent. Shall we… shall we retire to the bedroom, then?”

Crowley felt like he could take flight. “Lead the way, angel.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all and I appreciate the supportive comments. Your enjoyment of the story means the world to me. But if you are not enjoying it or the premise, there is no shame in noping out. I encourage you to do that if needed.

Aziraphale was trembling slightly when he got to his feet from the couch, and he hoped Crowley wouldn’t notice. It had been a good ten years since he’d had sex with anyone other than Gabriel, and sex with Gabriel hadn’t exactly been thrilling. He had a feeling he was in for a very different experience tonight, and he was so incredibly excited. 

But he was also desperately nervous. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so nervous in his entire life, and was afraid Crowley would catch on. He sent up a quick prayer that he wouldn’t. 

It was a prayer that went unanswered. Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and laid them on the coffee table, saying “I won’t be needing those, I expect.” Then he got to his feet and looked at Aziraphale, his gorgeous golden eyes piercing. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Aziraphale squawked. 

Crowley gave him an understanding look. “You’re nervous.”

“I - yes. I am.”

“Don’t be. I’m not a monster or anything. I promise you’re going to enjoy everything we do. And if you don’t, all you have to do is say so and we’ll stop immediately.” 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said in a trembling voice. 

“We don’t have to do this at all, if you’re not ready. We can just talk for the three hours you booked me for.”

“No, I - I very much want to. To have sex, that is.”

“Alright,” Crowley said gently. “Would you like to take me to your bedroom, or would you like to stay here? I’m flexible.”

“I - I think the bedroom.”

Crowley smiled kindly. “I’m following you.”

Aziraphale gave a quick nod, then turned and started walking towards his bedroom, trusting Crowley to follow. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and every step seemed to take ages, but at the same time, it was only the blink of an eye before he stepped into his room, near the bed. He wondered wildly what it looked like to Crowley: probably stuffy and old fashioned with the bookcases and a big squishy bed with a tartan duvet. He felt a pang of self consciousness and wished he’d met Crowley at a hotel. 

“Here we are,” he said, his voice still tremulous. He had no idea what to expect, but before he could think about it too hard, he felt a pair of hands on his hips and Crowley’s breath on his neck for just a second before he kissed him. 

“It’s a lovely room,” Crowley said between slow kisses to his neck. “It suits you.”

Aziraphale could feel himself thickening in his trousers already, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the feel of Crowley’s lips on his skin. “Thank you, dear.”

Crowley flexed his fingers in Aziraphale’s hips. “You’re welcome,” he breathed, then nipped him over his jugular. 

Aziraphale was now achingly hard, his breathing ragged - all from only a little bit of kissing and touching. It seemed Anathema had been right. He really did need this. But he quickly dismissed the thought of Anathema. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking of his assistant. 

Crowley slid his hands around his waist and pressed himself against Aziraphale’s back, and Aziraphale was thrilled when he felt Crowley’s cock hard against his arse. He couldn't help but grind back against him. He became aware that Crowley was unbuttoning his waistcoat slowly, one button at a time. “Is that alright, angel?”

“Yes.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“G - go ahead.”

“I was disappointed when you didn't want to fuck Sunday night. I went home and touched myself, thinking about all the things we could have done.”

“Is that true?”

“God’s honest truth,” Crowley said, then ran his tongue along the edge of Aziraphale’s collar. “I was _beyond_ thrilled to get the text that you’d booked me.”

“I - I touched myself that night, too, thinking about you.” He didn’t mention that he’d touched himself countless times in his early twenties, thinking of him. 

Crowley reached up and tugged the end of Aziraphale’s bow tie, making it unfurl, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt so he could get to his neck more easily. “You taste so good, angel. I can’t wait to touch you,” he said between sucking kisses. “Can I?”

Aziraphale nodded, unable to speak, and one of Crowley’s hands slid down to cup his cock. Aziraphale made a little sound at the touch. 

“Christ, Aziraphale. You feel enormous. I can’t wait to feel this cock in my arse.”

“Is that what you want?”

Crowley sucked his earlobe, then blew on it. “I had intended to tell you that I didn’t have a preference, but now that I’ve felt this cock, I’m inclined to beg you to let me suck on it, then you fuck me with it. Would you like that?”

“Yes, God, yes,” Aziraphale said in a strangled voice that was nearly a sob. 

Crowley’s hand went to the zip of his trousers, and as soon as he had them unzipped, he reached in and wrapped his hand around Aziraphale’s throbbing cock, pulling it out. Aziraphale made a helpless noise, and Crowley purred. 

“God, you feel good, angel. Can I suck you?”

“Yes, please.”

Crowley placed a last kiss to his neck, then whispered, “My pleasure,” and circled around to Aziraphale’s front, his hand never leaving his cock for more than a moment. 

“Jesus, angel. You’re so fucking _big_. I bet you taste like a dream.”

Aziraphale just stared with his hands clenched into fists, bravely trying to refrain from grabbing Crowley. 

Crowley gave him a wicked look, then kissed his cheek. “I’ll take care of you, angel. Just relax,” he said, and sank to his knees. 

Aziraphale looked down to see him pumping his cock slowly, his eyes full of something like hunger, and then he looked up at Aziraphale with a smoldering look. He opened his mouth and licked a stripe from the base of Aziraphale’s cock, where it was jutting out of his trousers, to the tip, and swirled his tongue around the head. Aziraphale let out a moan from the depths of his soul and closed his eyes. 

“I was right. You taste fucking amazing,” Crowley said. “Will you talk to me?”

“Anything.”

Crowley smiled up at him. “Perfect,” he said, then licked Aziraphale again. Aziraphale threw his head back on his shoulders and groaned, closing his eyes again. He swore when he felt Crowley engulf him in his mouth, hot and wet, and he clenched his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to grab Crowley. But he wanted to see this. He very much wanted to see this. So he raised his head and looked down to find Crowley bobbing on him, one hand working the part of his cock his mouth didn’t reach, the other hand pulling on his own clothes, unbuttoning his shirt. Aziraphale watched avidly, and Crowley looked up at him, mouth full of cock, and winked. 

“My God, Crowley, the mouth on you. It feels so incredibly good, dear.”

Crowley hummed around him, vibrating him, then reached out and grabbed one of Aziraphale’s hands, bringing it to his head. 

“Are you sure?”

Crowley nodded as best he could, still sucking him, then reached for Aziraphale’s other hand and put it on his head also. Aziraphale wound his fingers through the long, ginger strands and fisted them lightly, while Crowley bobbed on him, sucking him. 

“My darling, your mouth is magical. I’ve never felt anything better.”

He looked down to see that Crowley had unbuttoned his shirt all the way and was shrugging it off, still sucking his cock. He pulled off just long enough to yank his tie off and toss it to the side, then reached up to put his hands on Aziraphale’s hips to guide him into moving. 

“You want me to fuck your face?”

Crowley said “mhm” around the cock in his mouth, and gently eased Aziraphale into thrusting. Aziraphale let himself be led, until he was thrusting shallowly into the heat of Crowley’s sweet mouth.

“Yes, darling. Yes. Fuck. You feel so good, and you suck me so well.”

Crowley opened wider and took him deeper. 

Aziraphale could feel the stirrings of orgasm creeping up on him, and he didn't know if he was desperate to come or not to come. For now, he just tightened his hands in Crowley’s hair and fucked his mouth while he tried to decide. Crowley sucked him eagerly, as if he craved nothing but the taste of Aziraphale’s cock, had been starving for it.

Finally, he was so close he couldn’t carry on. “My darling, this is better than words, but I think I’m ready to fuck you now.”

Crowley sucked him for a few more strokes, then pulled off and looked up at Aziraphale. “Are you sure?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Very sure.”

Crowley pressed one more kiss to the head of Aziraphale’s cock, then stood up in front of him. He was bare chested and absolutely the most beautiful creature Aziraphale had ever seen. He was lean, but not skinny, with a dusting of dark auburn hair across his chest, and ridges on his stomach that spoke of abdominal muscles. When Aziraphale let his gaze trail downwards, he saw that Crowley had hip dents that led to a large bulge in his trousers. He was the finest specimen of manhood that Aziraphale had ever seen in his life, and he felt disgusting by comparison. 

The other man reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of three condoms and a little bottle of lube, tossing them onto the bed a foot away. Then he gave Aziraphale a blazing look and reached out for Aziraphale’s buttons. 

“Don’t,” Aziraphale said suddenly, raising his hands to ward him off and taking a tiny step back. 

Crowley looked nonplussed for a moment, then smiled a little, reassuringly. “You want to stay dressed?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. This time.”

“No problem, angel. Would you like me to put my shirt back on?”

He shook his head. “No. I want you naked. Please.”

Crowley’s amber eyes twinkled. “My pleasure,” he said, then with eyes locked on Aziraphale, he removed his shoes and socks. That done, he brought his hands up to the button of his jeans and unfastened them, then slid the zipper down slowly, never breaking eye contact. Aziraphale finally looked away when he started to pull his pants and trousers down, baring his cock, and oh _God_ , Aziraphale had never seen a more perfect one. It was tall and thick and proud, with a purple head that made Aziraphale’s mouth water. 

“You can touch me, angel,” Crowley said in a soft, reassuring voice. “I want you to.”

“I’m afraid that if I touch you, I’ll never be able to stop.”

Crowley grinned. “Would that be so terrible?”

Right at that moment, no, it didn’t seem so terrible at all. But he was still paralyzed. 

Crowley reached out and took one of Aziraphale’s hands and brought it to his cock, wrapping it around him. “Feel me, Aziraphale. Feel what you do to me.”

Aziraphale started pumping him slowly, and Crowley sighed, then stepped forward and went back to kissing Aziraphale’s neck. He wrapped his hand around Aziraphale’s cock and stroked him gently. Aziraphale loved the feel of his hands… Christ. He felt so good. 

He was aware of Crowley moving a little, then heard the tearing of a packet. The next thing he knew, a condom was being rolled onto his cock, then Crowley went back to stroking him. 

“I know I’m supposed to take things at your pace, but I’d really, really like it if you fucked me with this big cock now,” Crowley breathed in his ear. 

Aziraphale whined a little. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I think, for my first time, I need to be on my hands and knees. Is that alright?”

“It’s perfect. I’ll do anything you want,” Aziraphale promised. 

Crowley kissed his neck, then his ear, and Aziraphale made a noise when he let go of his cock and went to the bed, clambering up onto it. He situated himself on all fours, posing, then looked around over his shoulder at Aziraphale, his eyes smoldering. “Please, Aziraphale. I’ve never wanted to be fucked so badly in my life.” 

Aziraphale climbed up on the bed behind him, putting his hands on his hips, reaching for the lube. He got his fingers slick, then slid them between Crowley’s cheeks and found something hard and round: a plug. 

“Just take that out and you can go right in,” Crowley said cheekily. “Although as big as you are, I may not have prepared myself enough…”

Aziraphale was too hot and bothered to comment. He grabbed the end of the plug and used it to fuck Crowley shallowly, twisting it, making the other man moan. 

“Fuck, angel. Feels good. Fuck.”

Aziraphale fucked him a little harder, then bent and started pressing kisses all over the wide expanse of Crowley’s back, running his tongue down his spine. 

“More, angel. More. Take the plug out.”

Aziraphale pulled the plug until it came out, then tossed it to the side unceremoniously. As soon as he did, he slid two fingers into Crowley’s arse and the other man moaned. 

“Shit, angel. Even your _fingers_ are thick. Give me another one. Please.”

Aziraphale was eager to do as asked. He slowly added another finger, easing it in, and Crowley gave a broken moan. 

“Please, angel. Please. I want you to fuck me. I need it so bad. Fuck. Please. Give me your cock. I’m begging.”

Aziraphale reached for the lube and slicked his cock, still fucking Crowley with his three fingers, and when he was satisfied, he removed his fingers and lined up with Crowley’s fluttering hole. He gripped Crowley’s hips and started pushing ahead, burying himself in Crowley’s arse, while Crowley moaned and swore. 

“Fuck, angel. Fuck. Your cock is so big. Feels so good. Stretches me. Fuck.”

“You - you feel good to me, too,” Aziraphale said, still pushing his way inside. Finally, he was as deep as he could go, his hips flush against Crowley’s arse, and he could feel Crowley trembling beneath him. 

“Please, angel. Please fuck me with that cock. I’ll do anything. Just please…”

Aziraphale withdrew slowly, enjoying the drag of Crowley’s arse along his cock, then pushed back in, a little faster. Crowley groaned and begged and Aziraphale did it again, then again, and again, picking up speed. 

“That’s right, angel. Just like that. Fuck. Give it to me. Fuck me like you want to. My arse is yours. Fuck!”

His fingers were making dents in Crowley’s slim hips and he watched, entranced, as his cock slid into Crowey’s arse, then out, shining with lubricant. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he was enthralled by the sight. 

“Please, angel, please. Fuck me harder. Fuck. Give it to me, please.”

He sped up and fucked him harder and faster, as requested, but still trying to keep his instincts in check. He didn't want to hurt Crowley, and the way he was feeling right now, he was afraid he’d be too rough. But he struggled to keep control of himself - he could feel his determination slipping. 

Crowley was whining, making rhythmic little noises with every impact, and begging. “Angel. Angel. Oh, God, please fuck me harder. Use me. Please, I’m begging you, take me harder.”

Aziraphale snapped and started pounding into him, his hands putting bruises into his hips, his teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure. His head was heavy, forehead on Crowley’s back, seeking another point of contact. Crowley _howled_ his pleasure, shouting broken fragments of words and mangled praise. Aziraphale fucked him ruthlessly, and he begged for more. 

“I'm close,” Aziraphale managed in halting speech. “I’m going to come, Crowley. Are you close?”

“Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, I’m coming! Ah! Ah! Shit!”

Aziraphale detonated, coming harder than he’d ever come in his life, spilling hot and helplessly into the condom. He cried out inarticulately, eyes screwed shut, and felt as if every cell in his body were exploding at once. After an age, he stilled, buried as deep as he could go, and felt himself pulse inside Crowley. 

When he came to himself, he was still buried deep in Crowley’s arse, his hands on his hips, his mouth open to facilitate harsh breaths and his face resting on Crowley’s back. Crowley was trembling beneath him and Aziraphale didn't want to move. He never wanted to move. Not ever again. 

At length, though, he withdrew from Crowley’s body, intending to do something, he wasn’t sure what, but he ended up collapsing onto his back beside where Crowley was. Crowley looked over at him, also out of breath, and smiled, then kissed Aziraphale’s clothed shoulder and moved. He gently pulled the condom off of Aziraphale’s cock, tied it neatly, and dropped it into the trash can beside the bed. He used a tissue to clean his own mess, then, much to Aziraphale’s surprise, he came over and snuggled up to Aziraphale, in his arms, and kissed his cheek. 

“How was that, angel?”

Aziraphale huffed a tired laugh. “My dear, that was the best sex I’ve ever had. I now understand why some people crave a cigarette after sex like that.”

Crowley chuckled and nuzzled in. “It was pretty fucking amazing for me, too.”

Aziraphale gave him a look. “Truly?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Earth shattering. I wouldn't lie to you, angel. I promised not to.”

He wasn’t sure how to react to that, wasn’t sure he believed him, and finally settled on, “Thank you, dear.”

Crowley kissed his cheek again. “You’re welcome.”

He nuzzled deeper into Aziraphale’s arms and laid his arm across Aziraphale’s chest, with a leg thrown across Aziraphale’s. His fingers played idly with Aziraphale’s buttons and it was simultaneously the most comfortable Aziraphale had ever been and a little _un_ comfortable. He shouldn’t let himself go, holding Crowley, and he knew it, but couldn’t help relaxing into the embrace. He thought for a moment that he could get used to this, but that thought was dangerous. At the very least, it would be horribly expensive. 

But Aziraphale rather thought it might be worth it. It wasn’t like he ever had to worry about money. 

“Are you comfortable?” he asked Crowley. “Chilly?”

“I’m more comfortable than I've been in ages, but I wouldn't say no to a blanket. It’s February, after all.” 

“Quite right,” Aziraphale said, then hooked the duvet with his foot, so he wouldn’t have to let go of Crowley, and pulled it over them. Crowley sighed and snuggled closer. 

“May I ask you something, dear?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Why no kissing on the mouth?”

Crowley stiffened just the tiniest bit and hesitated, then spoke. “It’s too personal. Kissing is intimate and romantic. It blurs the line between business and pleasure.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said, feeling disappointed.

“That’s just something I save for real relationships. Not that this isn’t a real relationship, but…”

“I understand, dear. I’m paying you for the boyfriend experience. You’re not my actual boyfriend.”

“No, I’m not,” Crowley said, and there was an odd quality to his voice when he said it that Aziraphale didn’t understand.

But he seemed to brush it off quickly. “So you were married?” Crowley asked, still playing with one of Aziraphale’s buttons. 

“I was, yes.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t.”

“No, it’s fine. Really. Yes, I was married to Gabriel. We were together for several years, then married shortly after gay marriage became legal, in 2015. We separated in 2018.” 

“Why did you separate?”

“There was a laundry list of reasons, really. He changed a great deal after we married, and was no longer the man I’d known and fallen in love with. Although, in fairness, I should have seen the red flags. He had a tendency to be cruel and belittling and demeaning, and that became worse after we married. He had to have his way, just his way, or he was quite unhappy. I put up with it for a long time, thinking it was just a phase, but it just got worse over time. He also blamed me for things a lot. For example, he was offered a position in New York that would have advanced his career a bit, but I would have had to give up my shop and leave my home. We decided mutually to stay, but he resented me for it and brought it up frequently. He was very successful, but told me all the time that I’d held him back.” Aziraphale paused for a moment, then went on. “The final straw, though, was when I found out he’d been having sex with one of his colleagues. Well,” he amended, “I shouldn’t say it was the final straw. He came home on Valentine’s Day three years ago and told me he was leaving, that he’d fallen in love with another, better man, then packed his bag and left.” 

“Jesus. He sounds like the worst human imaginable.”

“He was. But I hadn’t even begun to see how truly evil he was yet. He filed for divorce, and sought to take half of my assets - my shop and the money my parents had left me. I fought him, but he was persistent. We dragged through the courts for over two years until I finally agreed to pay him a lump sum that would satisfy him. Then he went away. I haven’t heard from him since this last summer, and I hope never to hear from him again.”

“Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, I’d say.”

“Yes, I agree,” Aziraphale said. 

“It sounds like you were deprived sexually, too.”

“I was. We only had sex on his terms, the ways and times he wanted to. That was the first blowjob I’ve had in ten years. But he frequently complained that I was boring in bed.”

Crowley raised his head and looked at him disbelievingly. “You’re _joking_.”

“I’m not. He said I was the antithesis of excitement.”

“Well, he was an idiot. That was the best sex I’ve had in - shit. I don’t even know. And I can’t imagine seeing your gorgeous cock and _not_ wanting to get it inside me.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I absolutely do.”

Aziraphale smiled, pleased. “Thank you, dear.”

Crowley kissed his shoulder, then smiled and laid his head down. “You’re welcome.”


	4. Chapter 4

_25 February, 2021_

Crowley was sitting in his office on Thursday afternoon, ostensibly grading a paper, but his mind wasn’t on his work. Since he’d left Aziraphale’s flat Friday night, his mind had been firmly on Aziraphale. That had been easily the best sex he’d had in a long, long time, possibly ever. He’d had hope that the sex would be good, but holy hell. He hadn’t been prepared to have his world rocked. And the angel’s cock… Jesus. It was the biggest Crowley had ever had - and he’d had dozens of partners. Beyond that, Aziraphale knew what to do with it, and had left him little more than a quivering pile of goo in the end. It had taken a herculean effort not to ask Aziraphale to book him again soon - sooner than two weeks. 

But the sex had only been part of it. After the sex, he’d lain in Aziraphale’s bed and held him for a long time - until he’d had to leave. And as much as he’d loved the sex (and he’d really _loved_ the sex), he’d loved that quiet intimacy much more. They’d talked about all kinds of things, and while Crowley had tried to let Aziraphale do most of the talking, he _had_ talked, and when he had, he’d been completely honest - more than he had been for a long time. It had felt freeing, somehow. It had felt _right_. 

Crowley didn’t dare look at the emotions too closely behind any of his thoughts. Sex was infinitely better when there was a connection - and he couldn’t deny there was a connection.

He was doing a piss-poor job of not catching feelings, and he knew it. But he had no idea what to do about it. 

The best thing he could do, he thought, was to talk to someone about all this. But he couldn’t talk to anyone at Inferno Escorts about what he was thinking and feeling. He knew what Tracy would say - to stop seeing Aziraphale at once. Crowley didn’t want to do that. Not a bit. He wanted to see Aziraphale _more_. And he wasn’t exactly close with the other escorts, so that was out. There was only one person in his real life that knew about his night job: a fellow professor (and Crowley's best friend), Fergus Fitzgerald. Fergus usually spoke with wisdom and gave good advice, plus he was damned good at reading people, but Crowley had no idea what he’d say about all this. 

Well, there was one way to find out. He pulled out his mobile, looking hopefully to see if there was a message from Tracy booking him again with Aziraphale. When he saw there was none yet, he deflated a bit, then texted Fergus. 

Crowley: _Got time for a coffee?_  
Fergus: _Sure. An hour?_  
Crowley: _See you there._

He sat the phone down and tried to plan what to tell Fergus that would be honest but not make him sound stupid and pathetic.

~*~O~*~

Crowley was standing on the pavement outside the coffee shop, debating whether to go inside where it was warm, when he spotted a familiar strawberry blond head a little ways down the pavement. He smiled, and when Fergus caught sight of him, he smiled in return and raised a hand in greeting. As soon as they were close enough, they shook hands. 

“Bloody hell,” Fergus said by way of greeting. “What are you doing out here in the cold? Let’s get inside.”

“You bet,” Crowley said, and they went into the shop. 

They ordered their coffee - black for Crowley and a latte for Fergus - then went to an out of the way table and had a seat. They chatted for a couple of minutes about small topics, just catching up while they warmed up, until Fergus, always perceptive, asked, “So what’s going on?”

Crowley took a sip of his coffee as casually as he could. “What makes you think there’s something going on?”

“Because you rarely ask me for coffee randomly on a Thursday for no reason.”

“Shit, Fergus. You make me sound mercenary or transactional or something.”

“Nah, it’s not like that. We hang out all the time, but I figured you had a reason today. Just a hunch.”

Fergus’ hunches were usually right. Crowley loved that and hated it. It was a relief sometimes, but frequently left him with nowhere to hide.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “I do have something going on.”

Fergus took a sip of his coffee. “Well, go on. I’m all ears.”

Crowley weighed his words, still not sure how to broach this without sounding stupid. “I’ve got a new client. At my night job.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And he’s… different.”

“Different how? In what he wants?”

“Yes, kind of. But not really. FIrst of all, I know him.”

“You _know_ him?”

Crowley nodded. “Yes. Do you…” he hesitated, then plowed ahead. “Do you remember me telling you about the guy I had a crush on at uni but never made a move on?”

“Yeah. Some bloke with a weird name?”

“Aziraphale. Yes.”

“I do. Don’t tell me the new client is him.”

“Got it in one.”

“You’re _shitting_ me.”

“I’m not. His assistant booked me as a Valentine’s gift, a surprise, and when I showed up we were both shocked. So we talked for a little while, he explained what happened, then I left. I was happy to have seen him, and wanted to see him again, but I can’t ask out a client. You know that. It’s totally verboten. So I gave him my card and never expected to hear from him again, which bugged me. But he booked me the very next day for this past Friday.”

“And how did _that_ go?”

Crowley gave an uncharacteristic blush. “It went very well. We had sex, and he’s asked to become a regular.”

Fergus gave him a look. “And how do we feel about _that_?”

“Honest to God, I’m over the fucking moon.”

“Should you be?”

“No, and that’s part of my problem.”

“Only _part_ of your problem?”

“Yeah. Because he doesn't just want to fuck. He wants the full experience. The touching, the cuddling, all of it.”

“Oh, shit.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. And I’ve said I’ll give it to him. Plus, we also talk. As me, not as Damien. I’m honest with him.”

“I know damn well you’re not supposed to do _that._ ”

He squirmed a little, internally. “Yes and no. He’s not the first client to ask for all of that, but he’s the first one I’ve been willing to do it for. And with anyone else, it would be fine. For one thing, they wouldn't know anything about me, including my name, and for another, it would just be work. No feelings.”

Fergus was giving him a shrewd look. “But you’ve got feelings?”

Crowley ducked his head. “Yeah. I do.”

“Does _he_ have feelings for _you?_ Or did he?”

“If he does, I don’t know about it, and didn’t then. He says he recently went through a really bitter divorce and he’s just lonely. Which is entirely plausible, and it’s not uncommon. Lots of people hire escorts because they’re lonely. Most of them do, actually.”

“But do you _think_ he has feelings for you?”

“I honestly _hope_ he does, and that’s the _biggest_ problem.”

Fergus took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes glued to Crowley. “Alright, let me ask you this. Would you be dating this guy if he weren’t paying you? If you hadn’t met him again as a client?”

“Fergus, I’d be fucking _honored_ to date him.”

“So, why don’t you?”

“For several reasons. First, you know I’m not supposed to date clients. I’d be fired immediately. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world, I suppose, but I’d rather not. But second, and more than that, I really think he might just be a lonely guy that decided he would hire me to combat that loneliness. I don’t think it’s anything personal.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“No, I’m not,” he admitted. “But I can’t ask him for a date and break every professional code I have unless I’m sure.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

Crowley sighed. “I don’t know what I _can_ do. He’s asked to see me again in about a week. I guess I’m just going to see him as often as I can, and hope it becomes something real.”

“What if you think it _is_ something real?”

“If I’m blessed enough for that to happen, I’m going to work up the nerve and ask him out. Fuck my night job.”

“Why would you have to work up the nerve?” Fergus asked, looking confused. “I’ve never known you to be shy around anyone before.”

“I - I can’t explain it. I just know I’d be petrified to ask him for something real. He’s perfect, Fergus. Absolutely perfect.”

“Oh, shit. You’re in deep.”

Crowley sighed again. “Yeah. I am. I really want to date him, to have a relationship with him.”

“You haven’t had a real relationship since -”

“I know. Since Bee. And we both know how _that_ went. I went into this business in part because I didn’t really want any attachments after that. But Aziraphale is nothing like Bee, Fergus. He’s a goddamn angel. He’s just _different_ and I can’t explain it. He just is.”

“So you’re going to continue to have sex with this man and cuddle him after and _bare your soul_ in the hopes that he’s going to fall in love with you, too?”

Crowley squirmed a little once more at the L word. “I didn't say I’m in love, but yeah. Basically.”

Fergus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It made Crowley nervous. “What?”

“I’m just so torn. You’ve got yourself into a fine damn dilemma, Crowley.”

“I know.”

“I want to see you happy. That’s all I want. And it’s amazing to see you _excited_ again. That’s wonderful. But to fall for a client…”

“I know. But he wasn’t originally my client,” Crowley protested. “I just don’t know what to do. I was hoping you could help me.”

Fergus took a long sip of his coffee, then swallowed and said, “On one hand, I want to tell you to ask him out right now. To take the chance.”

“But if he turns me down, I could lose him as a client, which means I’d lose him completely.”

“I know. I know. I honestly don’t know what to tell you to do, then. I guess what you’re planning is your best bet.”

Crowley deflated a little. He’d hoped Fergus would have some brilliant plan that would solve everything.

“So keep giving him the boyfriend experience and hope he likes it so much, he wants to make it real?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m sorry I don’t have better advice.”

“No, you’re fine. I had hoped you’d have a stroke of brilliance, but it’s fine that you don’t.”

“When do you see him again?”

“He’d said he was going to book me for next weekend.”

“Well, I gave you the best advice I can give you. Show him everything you can, if that makes sense.” 

“It does. I’ll do that. Thanks, Fergus.”

“You’re welcome.”

~*~O~*~

_1 March, 2021_

The last week had been unusually hectic for Aziraphale. He’d had appointments with customers every single day, at least one or two a day, and there’d also been an unusually large volume of walk in traffic, customers trying to buy his books. He’d been much more pleasant with them than he usually was, but thankfully he or Anathema had been able to dissuade most of them. As he always did after a spike of walk in traffic, he wondered about closing the shop to the public and doing all his business by appointment only. It was a tempting proposal, and if he wasn’t concerned it would put Anathema out of a job, he’d likely do it. But she was the one who dealt primarily with the public, and if he didn’t truck with the public, he wouldn't really need her anymore. So he just sucked it up and kept the shop open. It was worth it, he supposed. 

Today it had been rainy and blessedly slow. The rain was cold and kept most people home, and Aziraphale was glad for that. He left Anathema at the front to read and catch any intrepid people while he hid in the back room to work on a new project: a first edition Doyle.

But his mind wasn’t on the work in front of him. As it had been since last Friday, his mind was on Crowley. 

There was a part of him that had hoped that by having sex with Crowley, he’d have gotten it out of his system, so to speak, and he wouldn’t feel the need to book him again. It had been a dim hope, but a hope nonetheless. That hope had been smashed all to pieces once he’d had sex with Crowley. That had been the best sex he’d ever had in his life, far and away, and he very much wanted it again and again. But more than that, the hour or so after the sex, when he’d held Crowley and been held, when they’d shared gentle touches and soft words… Aziraphale didn't just want that again. He _needed_ it. It felt like he’d been deprived of air and that time with Crowley had been his first fresh breath in decades. He’d told Crowley he only intended to book him every other week, but after that, he’d had to fight the urge to book him the very next night. 

Aziraphale had told himself he could keep things in check, but that had been a laughable lie. He’d tried, but he’d failed - and failed quickly. The crush he’d had as a young man was back with a vengeance - only it was hundreds of times more intense than it had been at Uni. There was a tiny part of him that regretted booking Crowley and having sex with him, but only very tiny, almost nonexistent. How could he truly regret the best night of his life?

Still, the air had been sweeter since Friday night. Food tasted better and the birds sang more beautifully. The sun shone down brighter and when it rained, the rain soothed him. He thought of Crowley all the time, and hadn’t changed the sheets on his bed - although they were dirty - because they still retained the faint scent of Crowley. 

This ‘crush’ he’d thought he had been harboring was deeper than he thought. God help him, he suspected he was falling in love. With the man he was paying to pretend to care about him.

And he was _fucked_.

“Alright. Spill.”

Aziraphale jumped at the sound of the voice and spun around in his seat to find Anathema there, propped in the doorway, the way she so liked to be: arms crossed, perched on one leg, a knowing smile on her face. 

“Anathema. You scared me,” he said, one hand over his chest. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s quite alright. Is it still raining?”

“Yup. Haven’t had a customer all day.”

“Very good,” Aziraphale said, then turned back to the Doyle. 

“Now, spill.”

He turned back to her, his expression as bland as he could make it. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do, too. You’ve been a completely different person for the last week or so. I’m glad for it, but I want to know why.”

“Yes, well, you’re very nosy.”

“Did you hire your friend again?”

“I’m not telling you anything,” he sniffed.

Anathema gave him a look, her eyes gleaming with mischief, then reached over to the desk, picked up his copy of “House At Pooh Corner”, opened it up, pulled out a pen, and clicked it open in her hand, her pose threatening.

“Don’t!” he shouted, holding his hands up to ward her off.

“Tell me about it or I’m drawing a dick in the book. Several dicks.”

“You’re bluffing.”

She lowered the pen and his heart nearly stopped. “Alright! Alright! Just put the book down!”

“And you’ll tell me the truth?”

“Yes, yes. Anything, you vile woman. Just put the book down.”

She snorted, but put the book down and retracted her pen. “As if I’d ever harm a book. But go on, you promised. Spill. Did you call your friend?”

“I did, yes.”

“When?”

“He came a little over a week ago, on Friday night.”

“What did you do?”

He gave her a look. “What do you _think_ we did?”

She grinned. “Well, how was it?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help a small smile. “It was otherworldly.”

Anathema gave a little giggle. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me the gory details.”

“Certainly not.”

“Spoilsport. You won’t tell me anything?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “I will tell you that I did ask for, and got, a cuddle out of it. And conversation. It wasn’t purely sexual.”

“Good.”

“Yes, it was very good. Crowley called it the boyfriend experience.”

“Crowley?”

“That’s his name.”

“Oh. I guess it makes sense that it’s not Damien.”

“No, that’s just the name he uses at work.”

“Well, are you going to see him again?”

Aziraphale flushed a little. “Yes, I am. I’ve asked to become one of his regulars.”

“Wow. For the boyfriend experience?”

“Yes.”

She clapped her hands and squealed. “That’s wonderful!”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m having very mixed feelings about this.”

“Why? What feelings?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Well, on one hand, I’m overjoyed because this is exactly what I’ve wanted and needed. It’s the kind of relationship I’ve been praying for. But it’s not real, and that's heartbreaking.”

“So why don’t you ask him out?”

“I’ve considered asking him if he would like to go to dinner or something on one of our sessions.”

“No, I mean ask him out for real.”

He gave her a look. “I do wish you’d be serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“I couldn't possibly do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m just a client. I don’t matter.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You said you were friends all those years ago.”

“Yes, but that was a long time ago, and we were never close. I don’t mean anything to him. I’m truly just a client.” The words hurt, and he fought down a wave of sadness. 

Anathema was silent for a moment. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to continue to see him, and take everything he’ll give me, so when it’s all over in a few weeks or months, I’ll have happy memories.”

She sniffed. “Well, I still think you should ask him out. What have you got to lose?”

“Him,” Aziraphale said simply. “If I were to seek out a relationship with him, he’d likely drop me as a client. And I’d lose him completely.”

“I really don’t think that would happen.”

“You don’t _know_ , dear.”

“And you don’t either. That’s my point.”

“Your opinion is, as always, noted. Now, have I been honest enough with you? I’ve bared my soul. Does that spare my book?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I’d never damage a book.”

“I don’t know that. You’re entirely unpredictable.”

“Well, you _should_ know that. Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?”

“I’m cheery, honestly.”

“When are you going to see him again?”

“This weekend. In fact, I should book him now.”

The bells rang in the shop, and they both looked around at the sound. Then Anathema turned back to Aziraphale. “I’ll go take care of whoever it is. You get on the computer and book him before someone else does.”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said. 

Anathema disappeared into the shop and Aziraphale just stared at the empty space she left for a moment, pondering, then opened his laptop.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter @caedmonfaith


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